Murder on the Caronia (29 page)

It was over two weeks before the vessel was due to sail again. Before any of the passengers embarked, Dillman was on board, dressed as a steward in the first-class area. Convinced the cache of drugs was still on the ship, he was alert and watchful. His vigilance was eventually rewarded. When the passengers were allowed to board, some brought friends and well-wishers with them. An attractive young woman in a long coat came aboard with a huge bunch of flowers that she wished to leave in a cabin her friends would occupy. She met Dillman in a passageway.

“What number are you looking for?” he asked.

“Twenty-six,” she said.

“It’s just along here, madam.”

“Thank you. I wanted to surprise some dear friends with the flowers.”

“Of course.”

Dillman led her to the cabin, knowing it was the one occupied earlier by Stanley Chase. He had searched it carefully himself but found no trace of drugs. Of all the cabins in first class, the young lady had nominated that one. There had to be a reason, and he doubted it was connected with any “dear friends.” Dillman showed her into the cabin, fetched a vase, then pretended to leave her alone to arrange the flowers. She watched him disappear around a corner before going to work. After taking off her coat, she filled the vase with water from the faucet and hastily put the flowers into it. Kneeling beside the paneling below one of the bunks, she took out a suction pad, licked it, and pressed it hard against the wood. A sudden push produced a click then she drew the pad toward her. A small door swung back on its hinges and allowed her to put her hand inside. She drew out a series of bags that she then concealed
in the large pockets sewn into the bottom of her coat, intending to carry it out casually over her arm when she left the ship.

But the system that had worked before had broken down at last. While she was reaching in for the last bag of cocaine, the door opened and Dillman came in.

“So that’s how it was done, is it?” he said with admiration. “Mr. Chase told us what an expert he was at repairing antiques. He obviously used his skills in here as well.”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I’m the person who arrested him,” said Dillman. “And it’s my pleasure to arrest you as well. I’ll take that coat, if you don’t mind. But leave the flowers,” he added with a smile. “I’m sure the passengers who occupy this cabin will be most grateful.”

* * *

When Genevieve Masefield came aboard shortly afterwards, Dillman called on her in her cabin. She was thrilled to hear that the cache of cocaine and heroin had been uncovered and a further arrest had been made. The
Caronia
would not be used for drug trafficking again. She had news of her own.

“Have you seen this, George?” she asked, waving a newspaper at him.

“I haven’t had time to read any papers today, Genevieve.”

“I don’t usually look at the sports pages but I’m glad that I did today.” She held out the newspaper to show him a photograph. “Theo Wright won the Bordeaux-to-Paris race in record time.”

“Without the aid of any drugs, I daresay.”

“He had some help. Look at the crowd behind him. Who do you see?”

Dillman examined the photograph more carefully. It was taken as Wright came through the finishing line at the end of the race. Excited spectators were cheering him on. One of them, standing in the front row and beaming happily, was Isadora Singleton.

“Look how much he earned for winning that race,” said Dillman, reading the caption. “You missed your chance, Genevieve.
If you’d married him, you might have ended up the wife of a very rich man. Don’t you regret that?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Why not?”

“I’m already spoken for,” she said, kissing him on the lips. “Aren’t I?”

About the Author

Conrad Allen is better known as Edward Marston, the Edgar-nominated author of the Nicholas Bracewell series and of several other historical mysteries. He lives in England.

Find out more about him at
www.edwardmarston.com